CONTENT NOTE: this post contains erotic and explicit writing

Erotic short story…

All those drunken confessions have led to this night. Each time we sat together, bottle of wine on the table, feet on the sofa, Adele or Emeli or Lana on the stereo, you loosening up and me listening. As the evenings wore on you inevitably confided a new secret and I stored it away with the rest. I know you better than you know yourself. I know your deepest desires, I know what turns you on, and I know exactly what you are yearning for.

Of course most of the time you wanted to talk about him. “He’s amazing in bed,” you told me as you stretched your foot out onto my lap. I massaged your toes and pictured the scene you described in such candid detail. You riding him like a cowgirl, his cock the perfect girth to make you feel so full and tight that you gushed for the first time. “He loved it.” I saw the misty look in your eyes as your cunt remembered and I squeezed your foot a little firmer in acknowledgment.

Some nights I thought you were all out of confessions but then the wine would kick in, you’d give me that naughty-girl look, and another one would leave your lips. You knew you had a willing and expectant audience; I knew you needed to be heard.

We’d almost drained the bottle of red the night you told me the biggest secret. If you hadn’t told me we could have carried on like this forever but, once I knew, the first domino in the chain was given a gentle nudge and the outcome was inevitable.

It had taken just one little word from him to burst your loved-up bubble. “Married. The bastard is already married!” I wrapped you up in my arms and let your angry, hot tears soak the front of my sweater. You nuzzled into my chest like a small child seeking comfort and I stroked your hair. I made sure you were safely tucked up before I left you for the night. I think you were asleep before I’d closed the front door.

You see, I wanted to give you that space. You needed to feel the lack in order to feel the want. Tonight I think you’re ready.

You look different this evening. There’s a weariness that makes your features look less distinct, like someone has blurred your edges with an eraser. You look softer and older. I like it. I hand you the wine and you lead me straight into the lounge. So far we are performing the same moves we have done a hundred times: you pour the wine, I choose the music, then we kick off our shoes and settle into the cushions.  I pat my lap and you smile as you place your feet there. I put down my wine glass and rub my thumbs across your tight arches. You wriggle your toes in appreciation.

I’ve always loved your feet. It’s funny because most people say “hands” or “eyes” when they’re asked what first attracted them to someone. If they were being honest they might say “it was her breasts” or “the bulge in his pants”. Few people would admit to being drawn to a stranger’s feet but that’s what I first noticed about you: you were barefoot and dancing. Your dance moves were pretty alluring too, but not as irresistible as your feet. I know you don’t see it yourself but, trust me, you have delectable feet.

It’s a good thing that you like having them massaged at the end of the day and we are perfectly matched in my delight at being the one to do it for you. When I thought this was the only physical contact we’d ever have I decided I could make it enough for me. Along with the friendly hugs and kisses hello and goodbye. Yes, I could live with that.

You kept telling me your secrets though. Did you realise what you were doing? You wanted me to share in your sexual thrills, wanted to draw me in, to make sure I felt it as well. You went into far more depth and detail than a simple retelling of a story would. Did you notice the misty look in my eyes too? The way I repositioned your feet in my lap: just a little higher up, just to make us both a little more comfortable.

Initially I wondered if you were testing out my willingness for a threesome. You knew I only like girls and I knew you and he were always up for trying something adventurous. You had plenty of opportunities to invite me and, when you didn’t, I began to wonder what other motive you might have for your newest admission of watching girl-on-girl porn. It didn’t take long for the other domino pieces to begin to stack up: were you deliberately laying a trail for me or was it your subconscious leading me on?

My fingers knead into the ball of your foot. I know your sweet spots and I work them with the pads of my thumbs and then my knuckles. Your unattended foot waits impatiently and you shift it to rest nearer my crotch.

Your weariness has lifted and you look young and excited again. You have drunk your wine quickly but I’m not going to refill your glass tonight; I have something else to offer to quench your thirst. Because that’s how you described your sexual appetite to me, remember? You talked about hunger and thirst and need and desire, and that urge that just won’t go away until it’s satisfied completely. I listened. I noted. And here I am.

Your feet are warm and heavy in my lap and your legs are stretched out along the sofa. You look relaxed and content. This could be the same as any other time we’ve spent together but tonight it’s my turn to share a secret.

I work my hands over the top of your feet and up to your ankles. You hold tension there too and I smooth it away, allowing my hands to slide a little bit higher on each stroke. Then I dip around to reach your calves. Another sweep of my hands leads me all the way to the backs of your knees. I’m leaning over your legs and your toes are pressing into my torso. You are so close to my nipples I can feel them hardening in anticipation. All it would take would be a few little wiggles of your toes and there would be no turning back.

I massage the tender area behind your knees. You have your eyes closed and you are smiling. He used to kiss you there and make you tremble. Now it is my fingers that are triggering delicate little shivers and twitches along your thighs. I know where your other erogenous zones are too.

You wiggle your toes and I feel it like an electrical charge connecting my breasts and cunt. You gasp in surprise as my mouth envelopes your big toe. You begin to giggle but then the sensations reach your cunt and you fall silent. My mouth is warm and wet, sucking and licking your toe, coating it with hot saliva. We are looking at each other: you must be able to see the need in my eyes and I see something shift in yours. This isn’t your naughty-girl expression; this is one of exposed lust. Your hunger is blatant.

I move my attention to the rest of your foot: kissing you slowly, holding you firmly. A wiggle from your toes again and then your voice: a quiet, “Suck me.” I take your other big toe into my mouth. You are prepared this time but your intake of breath tells me you still find the sensation unexpected. It is sensual and strange: do you feel like you’re getting a blow job? You wouldn’t be the first woman to discover she has an etheric dick on the end of her foot.

You are being very patient with me: I know how cunt-centric you usually are. I want to savour your whole body, to taste you, cover myself with the scent of you. You’re wet, aren’t you? As wet as my mouth; as wet as my cunt.

I release your foot long enough for us both to undress then you lie, face down, on the sofa. The soles of your feet are inviting me and I kiss each lightly. Your delicious calves are next: gentle kisses decorating you until I reach the backs of your knees. I puff a small breath onto your soft skin and you moan. My lips follow, and then my tongue, leaving a sheen on your skin: a blend of my saliva and your sweat. You are feeling flushed and I can see moisture in the dip of your lower back and across your shoulders.

I trail my breasts over the backs of your legs and watch your buttocks clench in response. One breast dips between your thighs, the sudden weight and presence makes you moan louder. I’ve reached your cunt.

My tongue trails a new path, this time on a downward trajectory. I start at the base of your spine and slide down to the top of your butt cheeks. You shift slightly onto your knees and spread your thighs a little to give me a clearer route. You throw me into a quandary: I know you want me to lick your cunt but your asshole looks so inviting. I pause. You bring yourself further onto your knees and look at me from over your shoulder. You want it all, don’t you? You want to lose yourself in all the sensations your body has to offer. I wish I had eight arms, a cock and a cunt. I wish I could wrap you up completely; fill you up completely. You deserve to be engulfed by passion. I know all your secrets; I know that’s what you want.

You offer your ass to me again and I take it. I worship you with my kisses before stroking my tongue over your sensitive pucker. I wrap one arm under your waist to better hold you to my lips and you push back onto me. You reach back and grab my free hand before bringing it into full contact with your cunt. “Fuck me,” you growl and push my hand hard up against you. If you could force my whole hand inside you, you would. Instead I quickly fill you with my fingers, leaving my thumb free to circle your clit.

You are already losing the sense of your individual body parts and are tuned in to the connections between your ass, your cunt, your feet, and your nipples as they graze the fabric of the sofa. Any sensation triggers a series of electric shocks over your skin and there is a deep pulsing at your very core.

I alternately flick my tongue over your asshole and huff warm air onto it. I match the rhythm to the movement of my fingers inside you and we rock together. I keep a slow and steady motion even though I know you want me to pick up speed. You always want to come too soon. But I want you to be totally ready, to dance barefoot on the edge of the precipice until you grow wings and fly from the edge. I want you to sweep and soar, catch an up-draught and fly again, until you have no choice left but to land and rest.

You want to come. You have pushed my fingers deeper inside you until the pressure in your cunt is exquisitely painful. You are panting and pleading: “Please, please…” But I’m still not ready to let you go. I want more of you before you fly from me.

Your asshole is soaked with my saliva and our sweat. I let go of your waist and raise my face from you. I watch you for a moment as you grind against my hand in your cunt. The fingers of my free hand dip inside my own juices and I feel my clit rock hard and erect. I’m saving that for you. My wet fingers return to your asshole. One finger pushes swiftly inside you and you cry out. Now we can dance.

I let you set the pace. You can’t move quickly enough: you want to dance so fast that you make time go backwards. You want to come but you don’t want this to end. You go to the edge and leap.

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